No More Answers
by TheHinkyPanda
Summary: Rumple's deal with Belle from Skin Deep told from Belle's point of view. One-shot.


**Author's Note: **This was just a "thank you" I wrote for olverabonk for all her behind the scenes encouragement and all around niceness towards me. I asked her if there was a scene she would like me to take a crack at, and this one was it.

**No More Answers**

There were no more answers.

She had stared at the map that covered the massive table with their kingdom's boundaries starting to bleed into the ogre's territory. The lines were ever changing, more land was being lost and with that land went lives. Childhood friends, loyal soldiers and even the brave farmers who were convinced they had the mettle to take down a ogre, all were spilling their blood to no avail. The lines were still moving and there were no more answers.

And now Avonlea...the words are still ringing off the crumbling walls. _Avonlea__ has fallen._Her childhood home filled with memories of her mother is now gone. It is unforgivable and yet there is nothing for them to do. She grips the book of war stories she has been reading, searching the annuls of battle for any clue that would spare their land. She can't find one answer to the ogre problem. Their best chance at surviving has already been sent for and has shown no sign of coming to their aid.

It took her two weeks and a rapid loss of land to finally convince her father to send her plea to Rumplestiltskin. It was midnight, the war generals retired to a fitful sleep while soldiers were being annihilated under blood red skies. She had found her father, bent over the map and hopeless. He was a merchant King, benevolent and kind. He was not a war time King, with steel in his spine and a blade in his hand. She showed him different battle plans and how all would fail. Together, they worked on different plans but each had a fatal flaw. By the time dawn had broken, she had convinced him that the Wizard of the Western Mountains really was their last hope and he had sent off the letter she had written a month ago requesting help. That was a week ago and no response had come. And now Avonlea had fallen.

"If only he had come," Gaston breaks the heavy silence that is filled with despair.

"Well, he didn't, did he?" her father snaps.

Belle looks between the two men's faces: Gaston slightly surprised at the venom found in her father's voice and her father himself, bowing and changing in a time that is not for peace-loving men. She briefly wonders if it had been a mistake to put their hopes all on one man if that it what he is. Perhaps if they hadn't promised him gold but something else, he would have been here by now. She had heard rumors that he spun straw into gold but her father didn't want to leave the reward up to Rumplestiltskin's own devices. Hope was dying all around her and she needed to do something, quickly.

Her father was making his way to his chair. "Ogres are not men."

Gaston moved to his side. "We have to do something. We have to stop them."

But Belle knows that there is nothing to do, that nothing can stop the ogres because they are not men. So she moves around the war generals and leaders of the soldiers until she's at her father's side. The only hope they have is Rumplestiltskin and she must fan that one last ember of hope. As she kneels down next to him, she can see the failure in his eyes.

"They are unstoppable," he murmurs, more to her than anyone. It was a conversation they had shared in the quiet pre-dawn hours many of morning.

"He could be on his way right now, Papa." She wonders briefly just how desperate they have become that she has put her hope of salvation in a magic man instead of her father's top general to whom she is to be married.

"It's too late, my girl. It's just...too late."

She opens her mouth to tell him of all the stories she has read where the Prince doesn't show up until it is too late and yet he finds a way to set everything right again, when there is a knock at the chamber door. Fear and tension spring up around the room but Belle stands, hope and relief keeping her upright. She was right, please any and all gods, let her be right. He has come. He has finally come and will save them all like the various different knights in all their shining armor.

"It's him," she stands up with her father, "it has to be him." She refuses to believe otherwise. They will open the door and he will save them all.

"How could he get past the walls?"

Her father, ever the skeptic. If they had placed their hope in him saving their land, castle walls would be nothing for him to conquer but Belle bites her tongue and waits with baited breath for their savior to be revealed. Finally her father gives the word to open the door and they do. The beam is removed and once swords are partially drawn, the massive doors swing open...and nothing happens.

Belle creeps up on her toes, peering over the shoulders of the men around her and confusion bangs itself against the hope she had just been feeling. There is nothing in the hallway but rumble. No savior, no knight in shining armor and definitely no Rumpelstiltskin.

"Now that was a bit of a let down."

It was a voice that she didn't recognize. A low keen followed the statement and suddenly Belle realizes that he had come. She turns around and sees him lounging in her father's chair, one of the towers from the map being turned over in his hands. He is nothing like she expected and yet exactly what her imagination had provided for her. His skin took her by surprise, it's greenish-gold tone practically glistens in the torchlight as if he is wet. His clothes are outlandish, a mix of silk, feathers and leather but honestly, she had expected nothing less from this enigma.

"You sent me a message," he states calmly, even as Gaston draws his sword and advances. "Something about um..."

Belle wonders what part of the letter he is going to quote. She had spent weeks composing it, delicately asking for his help and mercy while speaking of the other great feats of magic he had performed across the land for other people.

"'Help, help, we're dying. Can you save us?'" he mocks in an apathetic tone.

And a small flare of anger is sparked. Those were not her words, not exactly, and suddenly she has an urge to box his ears, savior or not, for butchering her prose.

"Now, the answer is," he rises slowly, stares Gaston in the face as he slaps the flat of the blade away from him and tosses the miniature tower to one of the generals. "Yes, I can."

But there is something in his voice, something that starts to tarnish his shining armor. This was not going to be an easy, simple deal with him. He was going to ask for something that was not specified in the letter. Hope was here but apparently, it came with an unnamed cost.

"Yes, I can save your little town," he turns with a blade-edged smile. "For a price."

"We sent you a promise of gold."

And Belle watches Rumplestiltskin's face, the odd skin as it shifts under the emotions and calculations that are passing through his mind. His expression settles on a patronizing look as he splays his long fingers in a descriptive gesture.

"You see, I, uh, make gold."

So those rumors were true. Which meant they would have to renegotiate the deal. So what would be his price now? Her father's fleets? Part of the land or maybe all of it? Seaside land was a precious commodity.

"What I want is a bit more special," his voice drops lower, hushed and conspiratorial. "My price..."

There was that collection of black pearls from the mermaids...but Belle held her breath, as did the entire room.

"...is her."

And relief floods through her. The price can be paid, the kingdom won't suffer and her loved ones will live. But Gaston has put his protective arm in front of her and her father has already denied the request. While they haggle and hiss to each other, Belle just keeps seeing the positives to this situation. All he wants, he says, is a caretaker to his estate and she has never been afraid of hard work. And if the rumors were to believed, he traveled extensively so how much time would he actually be spending there?

She looks up at her tall, dark haired protector. He would be free to marry someone who loves him, truly loves him. Whenever she looks at Gaston all she can see is a childhood friend with a dirty face and knack for getting the both of them in trouble. This deal would offer a way out for all of them.

"As you wish," Rumplestiltskin is sauntering out of the hall and she is still being kept at bay by Gaston. No, this can not happen, their hope, their salvation has stated his price and she is willing to pay but he has been rebuffed by the wrong people and is leaving.

"No, wait!"

And Rumplestiltskin turns on his heel and he's smiling. He's smiling as if he knew this was exactly how he expected this deal to progress. The desire to box his ears has come back but she can not back down now. The fate of the kingdom, as well as her own, comes down to the two of them and no one else. Raising her chin, she steps out from behind of Gaston's protective arm and goes to face her fate eye to eye.

It is his eyes that finally bring her up short. The pupils are so large there's hardly any white visible. But instead of staring down two dark tunnels, there is a swirl of coppery color to be found in there that is warmed by mischief and thrill. She's certain it has nothing to do with her but rather the deal. But it is what his eyes lack that convince her that she can do this. There may be mischief, but there is no meanness. There isn't any anger or desire to hurt despite the skin color and sharp teeth. This is a domesticated dragon, still with teeth in his mouth and fire in his belly but would only show those things when provoked. She can work with this creature, she can make a deal just as good as any of the men in this room and she was going to prove it. She would be brave. She would be the hero in her own story.

"I will go with him."

And he emits a delighted noise, hardly something to inspire fear, though her father and Gaston are rushing to negate the deal to which she has just agreed.

"I forbid it!" Gaston states and it only confirms Belle's decision. Marrying him would be just as much a prison as the one she has locked herself into now. So she turns and announces something that she has always known.

"No one decides my fate but me." And the statement is enough to stop her father and Gaston from moving forward. So she turns back to Rumplestilskin. "I shall go."

His eyes are overly bright, his fingers steepled and a smile still on his face. "It's forever, dearie."

She tries not smile, tries not to show her relief that the situation will be resolved. There is still a deal on the table with a monster who is giving her a way out, a way she needs to block. "My family, my friends," she stares into those odd eyes, "they will all live?"

He gives her a flourish with sincerity. "You have my word."

"Then you have mine," She ducks her eyes briefly. She had done it. She has saved her town. "Then I will go with you, forever."

"Deal!" And he emits about high pitched noise and bounces on his feet. It's an action that could only be interpreted as delight and she is having a hard time understanding the fear that is associated with this man's name. But now is the difficult task as she turns and faces her father and childhood friend.

"Belle..." her father pleads. "Belle, you can not do this. Belle, please..."

She turns and lays a comforting hand on her father's soft cloak. Bravery comes at a price too it seems.

"You can't go with this...beast," he finishes.

She can hear a exaggerated gasp coming from over her shoulder but ignores whatever Rumplestiltskin is doing. Instead, she focuses on her father because the reality of not seeing him ever again pricks her eyes. But she needs to be brave, show them she is brave.

"Father..." she reaches over to her well-intentioned fiancee, "Gaston. It's been decided."

She can hear his steps come up behind her. He hovers over her shoulder, closer than he's ever been the entire time he's been in the war room. He smells of earth, grass and nose stinging magic. He may be lacking a mean streak but she can feel the power roiling off of him now. But she is brave and must show them all by not flinching or shying away from his strangeness.

"You know, she's right," Rumplestiltskin remarks, pointing one of his long fingers in her direction. "The deal has been struck."

And suddenly, she can no longer look at her father's face, at the loss she recognizes from when her mother died. She tries to latch on to her bravery but is finding it a small comfort right now.

"Oh, by the way," Rumplestiltskin twitters by her ear, "congratulations on your little war."

She feels his hand ghosting over her back, not quite touching but still there. As she turns and starts to walk out of the war room side by side with Rumplestiltskin, she takes some comfort in that she had found an answer where there were none.


End file.
